


settle down (settle down)

by ashinan



Series: Uliro Week [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blankets, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, M/M, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 19:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11065800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/ashinan
Summary: Shiro’s rescue is surprisingly anti-climactic. Ulaz does not share this belief.





	settle down (settle down)

**Author's Note:**

> We're onto Day Five and back to Soft, because that's where I live in this pairing. This is an immediate follow up to [Day Four](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11056128) because I'm not going to leave that fic incomplete. If you're looking for a song this time around, check out [Technicolour Beat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9FfYWp_d5w) by Oh Wonder which helped me with the atmosphere for the final scene. Enjoy, dahlings!
> 
> Edit: As I have been personally dragged by a certain person over my misuse of a WORD in this fic I am making a small edit.

Shiro - remembers.

Flashes: the rigid ramp cutting into his knees, the metal arms around his throat, the freezing slap of the cell floor.

Emotions: the copper taste of fear, the ringing uncertainty in his ears, the scream of agonized nerves along his shoulder, useless now from the plasma blast.

The commander’s laugh.

Ulaz’s desperation.

The pod firing off and the blissful calm of unconsciousness.

He remembers, bits and pieces, pain interspersed with interrogation relieved by silence. Hours. Minutes? Not days. He remembers the clarity of a voice in his head, a gentle purr and a fierce promise. He remembers, woozy from blood loss and the dead weight of his arm, rescue.

The commander’s bloodied face.

The sentries, broken and shattered and parts spewing sludge.

The broken cry of his name as he was picked up and cradled.

He remembers the lights of the Castle, blue on white on silver on grey. He remembers warmth and safety, being carried and placed carefully in a pod. He remembers being pulled under, to where stars bled purple across the sky and to where he was wrapped in the encompassing embrace of unconditional love.

Shiro remembers. And then he wakes up.

 

The healing pods, while a stunning invention to cure mortal wounds, always leaves a metallic taste in Shiro’s mouth. He’s met by all the Paladins crowding him as the pod completes its cycle, as he is released from the chill of the chamber, and immediately wrapped in a blanket. Hunk assists him to the cots lining the walls and checks over the Galra arm and it’s connection to Shiro’s body. Keith carefully goes over the list of questions all the Paladins are required to answer after being in the pods. Lance distracts with inane questions, smiling when he gets a chuckle out of Shiro. Pidge sneaks her way into the warmth of the blanket, reassuring herself through the surety of touch.

Which -

“Where’s Ulaz?” Shiro croaks out, cutting Keith off. Allura isn’t nearby either, and Coran usually pops in to check his vitals when he first comes out of the pods.

“He’s with Allura,” Hunk says, tucking Shiro’s arm back underneath the blanket. Pidge yelps when it brushes her side, cold even through her clothes, and Shiro pokes at her again just for a laugh.

That’s a relief. “The data?”

“Decrypting as we speak,” Lance says, arms crossed. “Nifty trick, the nail thing, though I don’t think it would work with human nails.”

Keith pipes up again with the last few questions which Shiro answers, dropping his chin on top of Pidge’s head. He’s tired, aching all along his right side. When Keith finishes his inquiry, they all sit in relative silence, Shiro’s eyelids drooping as he leeches warmth from Pidge.

It’s - strange. Ulaz should be nearby. He’s always nearby, in some capacity. Lance invented a game after a while, counting down when Shiro arrived and Ulaz followed. But they’ve gone well past the twelve seconds Lance usually counts. Shiro hums when the Paladins pick up the conversation thread again, content to listen and not contribute.  He’s unsure how to address his sudden uncertainty over Ulaz not being here, but he shoves it aside. If Ulaz won’t come to him, then Shiro will just find him later.

The shush of the doors open and Shiro perks up. Coran enters, pleased to find Shiro awake, and launching into a similar series of questions that Keith had just gone over. The blanket of safety lulls Shiro into a light doze, even as Coran pokes and prods at him to check his vitals.

He’ll find Ulaz later. He always does.

 

Later comes and Shiro, frustrated, makes his way to the observatory above the Black Lion.

After a nap and some food, Shiro had wandered the halls in search of Ulaz. The other Paladins had shadowed him for a while, keeping an eye and reassuring themselves through sight alone, but Shiro had finally lost them. Except Ulaz remained elusive, not on the bridge, not in the training room, not even in his quarters. Missing. Or - avoiding Shiro.

Sighing, Shiro elbows the panel open on the observatory, tugging his blanket further around himself. Hunk had insisted and Shiro is loathe to relinquish the warmth that he’s cultivated. The observatory swims with starlight, galaxies and nebulae swirling lazily by.

And an Ulaz.

Surprised, Shiro picks his way toward the low couch that all the Lion observatories have. Ulaz sits on the floor in front of it, knees crossed and hands folded together, head down. Meditating, likely. Shiro pauses at the edge of the couch, shoulders up and blanket pulled close. Is it bad form to want his maybe-Galra-suitor to forgo meditating for some good old fashioned cuddling? Sighing, Shiro approaches.

“Mind if I join you?” Shiro asks, swaying slightly. Ulaz glances up, brow furrowed. Shiro rubs at his eye with his palm. “You weren’t there when I got out of the pod.”

“I was assisting the Princess with translation,” Ulaz says. He hasn’t moved.

Shiro switches tactics. “The pods always make me tired. They’re strange that way.”

Standing between Ulaz’s knees, Shiro waits sleepily for him to come to a conclusion. It’s strange for Shiro to ask twice for comfort, but Ulaz is probably equally exhausted.

Thankfully, Ulaz reaches out and draws Shiro down into his lap, into the crux of his legs and the safe fold of his arms. Shiro adjusts the blanket around himself and Ulaz draws his fingers down the length of Shiro’s back. The touch shivers through him, flickering pleasantly against his aching joints, and Shiro bites at his lip.

Their relationship is quiet, fresh and new and stalled out due to the war. Touch is limited though welcome. Kisses are shared usually through the Galran method, Ulaz nudging their noses together before Shiro’s thrown into battle and Ulaz rushes away on missions. It’s been so long since Shiro has just sat with someone he adores, allowed them to take care of him instead, allowed -

Well.

It’s been  _so long._

Swallowing, Shiro relaxes further into Ulaz’s hold. The ball of tension at the base of his spine releases as Ulaz adjusts, easing Shiro’s head against his chest. The blanket is tugged and tucked against Shiro’s sides, trapping warmth within. The chill of Ulaz’s skin cools the flush along Shiro’s cheek. He turns his nose against Ulaz’s collarbone, breathing out. The aches of his time in cryo fade the more he relaxes.

The gentle slide of Ulaz’s nails over Shiro’s scalp sends tingles down his spine, his surprised exhale ending in a pleased groan. Ulaz stills. Shiro blinks, nudging his head up into the touch. Ulaz resumes with a rumble, combing through Shiro’s hair. Sleep tugs at his senses, a coaxing song, and he sighs out again as he snuggles down further.

“You terrify me,” Ulaz says, voice low, confession muddy against Shiro’s sleep addled thoughts. He blinks, yanking himself back to awareness.  _Important_. This is important. He has to be awake for this.

Ulaz twists Shiro’s fringe around his fingers and Shiro hums, inquiring. Ulaz continues, though his words remain soft, laced with sorrow and an undercurrent of guilt. “You should not have been in that position. It was unacceptable, a miscalculation I should have foreseen. Without the work of the others, you would have been lost.”

 _To me_  is unsaid but clear. Shiro pushes up in Ulaz’s hold, gaze bleary as he makes eye contact. “Not really. I was too important. They couldn’t risk doing anything with me until later. I knew you’d all find me before anything happened.”

Ulaz cups the back of Shiro’s head, dropping their foreheads together. His other hand worms under the blanket to rest on Shiro’s leg, thumb digging into the junction between thigh and groin. He doesn’t respond to Shiro’s explanation. A minute shiver ripples through their connection, Ulaz’s eyes squeezed shut.  

Shiro tugs an arm free of his blanket prison to brush along Ulaz’s cheek. “Ulaz?”

“You  _terrify_ me,” Ulaz whispers, desperate, his hold tightening. His legs bow up, caging Shiro in, as he rolls their foreheads together. “I cannot - please.”

Wiggling his arm down, Shiro laces his fingers with Ulaz’s on his thigh. He bumps their noses together, small Galran kisses, before dropping a few human ones on the uncertain tremor of Ulaz’s mouth. A wounded noise leaves Ulaz at that, his hand sliding over the exposed line of Shiro’s throat to the bullet wound that had been scarred over and made obsolete. It’s a phantom remembrance now, lost to the scripts of war.

“I’m here,” Shiro says, pushing into Ulaz’s touch. “I’m here, okay? All in one piece. All okay.”

 _“Please,”_ Ulaz repeats, folding down and around Shiro, nose against Shiro’s throat and hands tightening, holding, affirming. Shiro brushes his fingers over Ulaz’s ear, the crown of his head, the bumps along his spine. The blanket falls down to Shiro’s waist, Ulaz following its descent with the pads of his fingers. He tugs up Shiro’s shirt, sliding his palm along the warmth of Shiro’s side and around to splay wide over Shiro’s stomach. Desperation trembles along his shoulders; uncertainty manifests in a too tight grip, pinpricks along Shiro’s side from claws extended still. Shiro hushes, comforts as best he can.

Ulaz chooses silence and yet he’s wracked with emotion.

They remain like that, Ulaz tucked into the contours of Shiro’s body, holding him as though afraid he’ll disappear. Shiro soothes, speaks nonsense words into the air, relaxes into the firm hold Ulaz has on him. Claws prick at his skin, but don’t threaten. They sit, quiet, entwined. Shiro breathes. Ulaz matches it seamlessly. Beyond the lip of the couch, the stars shatter across the wall, kaleidoscopes of colour marring the darkness. Shiro whispers Ulaz’s name, drawing his face free from the shadows of Shiro’s throat. He cradles Ulaz’s jaw and smiles.

They come together, quiet, entwined.

 _I am here_ , Shiro repeats.  _Please_ , Ulaz responds.

The stars shift, constellations scattering over the draped folds of Shiro’s discarded blanket.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come follow me on [tumblr](https://ashinan.tumblr.com) where I will be posting the Uliro fics first before putting them on AO3. ALSO ALSO please do follow [Uliro Week](https://uliroweek.tumblr.com/) for all your Uliro needs


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